Somewhere there's a better place
by Featherylove
Summary: "Damon, I didn't kill her" she said, "Who?" "You know, your mother"... He looked her in eyes and wished he could believe her. Because in this moment of eternity, it was all he knew how to do.
1. Chapter 1: Life sucks

Blood gushed out of the sides of the stake, where the hole gaped in her chest. She made a gurgling sound which choked off into silence. The killer drew out the stake and flung it to the floor, chest heaving, eyes glittering.

He stood there for a moment, staring at her dead gorgeous wife, lying on her bed.

The soft sound of sobbing came from behind him and he turned around to see his four year old daughter, standing with fists clenched, gasping and wide-eyed at the spectacle of seeing her father so brutally murdering her mother. Her black hair hung limply hiding her eyes as she struggled to understand.

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><p>10 years later…<p>

_Inside a rich house. The wife has just left for a party and her husband is seen letting in a slim slightly under-nourished but nonetheless attractive Asian girl…_

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><p>She whimpered as he touched her but she held still. He smiled and closed his eyes in pleasure. Shuddering slightly in revulsion, she sighed and slipped back into the dreaded routine.<p>

The man groaned softly as his fingers lingered on her porcelain skin. He nodded and chuckled to himself. _Yes, the Chinese half-breeds were always the best._

An hour later, she stumbled out, clutching a 5 _lire_ coin in her hand.

"Where's the money?" he growled, grabbing her roughly by the arm.

"Here!" she said, hastily dropping the coins onto their makeshift table.

They spun, gleaming in the light of the lamp.

Ambra looked up at her father, whose face was twisted into an expression of greed.

He snatched the coins up and stuffed them into his pouch.

"Get back to work," he snapped and lumbered off, no doubt for another night at the bars with his new-found money.

Ambra bit her lip helplessly as she imagined what he might do to her tonight, after he became sodden with drink.

If only she could escape…

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	2. Chapter 2   :I remember

**Disclaimer: I do not own Vampire Diaries (book or TV series) wish I could tho :)**

She needed to go. Now.

She couldn't stand it any longer.

The beatings, the yelling. Giving her body to every disgustingly rich man in the town just for a little money. Her father…

Her life was a gush of lava streaming out of a massive volcano. There were so many things that she didn't understand about her past but she never found time or the means to make anything clearer. Her future looked so bleak that sometimes she wondered whether it would be easier to just end it all.

As she imagined the lava hitting water and cooling off into crumbly rock, she could almost feel the steam rising up and hear the sound of the hissing.

Every-time her father thrashed her, she was tempted to scream out into the streets for help. But she knew that she wouldn't make it before he killed her. Besides, no-body would care anyway. Not for a miserable, scrawny little half-breed like her.

Ambra wished her mother was here. She could still remember the smell of her perfume and her silky hair brushing against the top of her head as she held Ambra in her arms. But then when he killed her…

The metallic tang of blood rushed at her and the image of a bloody stake seemed so overwhelmingly real she stifled a scream.

Ambra curled up tighter, hugging her knees.

She squeezed her eyes shut in the hope that everything would go away.

But then the killer turned his head and she looked into the hazel green of her father's eyes, held by his wild, haggard face…

NOOOOOOOOO!


	3. Chapter 3: Run

She had planned everything. Yet it seemed so vast, like stepping out and falling into the vast stretch of never-ending ocean.

But she couldn't stay here. Her breathing came in heaves and she clenched her fists so tight that her knuckles hurt.

It was going to be tonight. Tonight or never.

The night air whipped her face and she shivered, clutching her cloak tighter. The street was dark and sinister, crawling with drunkards and cloaked strangers. The smell of booze was almost overwhelming.

A man wheeling a cart of who-knows-what rushed past her, knocking her into a group of men. One of them shoved at her angrily. "Watch your step, runt." he growled. The sudden movement unhinged her hood and his eyes lingered on her hair which cascaded down, glistening in the bright moonlight. He reached out and weaved his fingers through a couple of strands.

Ambra started and turned. Then froze.

With his rough unshaven beard and sharp beak-like nose, it was unmistakeably her father. He stared in shock for a few seconds and that small while was enough for Ambra to wrench away from him and run off, pelting down the street.

Her breath came in gasps and her eyes wheeled in terror. It was a game of fox vs. rabbit. And the chances of her winning was pitifully minimal.


	4. Chapter 4: Confess

**STOP!**

**Great, now that I have your attention I would just like to apologise for the lack of action. But this is a romance story so yea. Deal with it. Dw tho because here comes the action. Oh and before you go charging on, I would just like to thank Katerina the Von for commenting. For the rest of you, feel free to give me your opinions and some ideas on what you want to happen next!**

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><p>Darkness, more darkness… endless rows of alleyways. Ambra cursed silently as she realised she had blindly stumbled her way into one of the well-known mazes near the edge of town. It was fate of course that these alleyways led to a large factory that was surrounded by a huge metal fence. With barbs.<p>

She bit her lip and looked back, panting slightly. The dark seemed threatening all of a sudden. She could hear the distant patter of feet and the occasional shout. There was no time to waste.

She slipped into an alleyway on her right and wedged herself into the corner. Hopefully, she wouldn't be discovered although she had a horrible feeling that her luck wouldn't be able to hold for too long.

Holding her breath, she listened to a single pair of feet padding along the street. It seemed to be getting closer.

And closer.

Panic rose from her and she felt like puking. The sweat and grime layered on her skin had cooled off now that she had stopped running and it was excruciatingly uncomfortable.

"Ambra,"

A single whisper sent chills down her spine.

"Ambra, I know you're there."

It was the owner of the voice as much as what he was saying that frightened her.

Her father seldom used that voice. It was disconcertingly smooth, soft and … gentle.

His shadow was clearly outlined on the sandy floor in front of her alleyway. He paused as if to turn away but then proceeded to stalk down into the gloomy depths.

As the stale whiff of his breath floated down toward her, she cringed and held her breath.

He smiled when he spotted her.

"S..stay away from me!" Ambra said in what she hoped was a threatening voice. The effect was slightly marred with her trembling.

He advanced.

Ambra slid down into a crouch, her hands held out instinctively to protect herself.

"Ambra, you little wretch." he spat. "I give you clothing, food and shelter and you dare **run away from me!**" His voice had risen to a shout and spittle flew everywhere.

_Food? Shelter?_Ambra thought bitterly, _You mean food that you bought with money I earned? Shelter that you stole off Mother?_

She too was shaking with anger and fear but she daren't say it aloud.

"I suffered so much. Too much to have you running off into the night with a word. Ungrateful bitch."

"Enough!" Ambra cried furiously, rising from her spot. "I've had enough of your pretending. You think you've suffered? What about me?"

Her father's eyes widened in shock.

Ambra barrelled straight on. "Besides, I know what you did. I know you killed her. I remember." she shrieked.

His jaw worked to get something out and his hands trembled violently. Madness shone in his eyes and it seemed that her father was ready to gut her with his bare hands.

"No you don't." he snarled, but there was note of hysteria in his voice.

This was it. He was probably going to kill her. Right there and then.

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><p><strong>Hope you guys like it so far! More coming soon! HINT: The more reviews, the faster the next chapter will upload :D<strong>

**Teaser!**

**Guess who says what!**

"You are never going to tell a single soul."

"You've been a naughty girl haven't you?"

**Review! You know you want to! ONCE I GET 15 REVIEWS, THE NEXT CHAPPIE WILL COME!**


	5. Chapter 5: Beaten

So far:

_Ambra has decided to leave home and sneaks off into the night while her father goes to the bar._

_Then she bumps into her father who chases into an alleyway._

_Abuse is yelled and Ambra reveals her knowledge of her father murdering her mother._

This was it. He was probably going to kill her. Right there and then.

He grabbed her shirt roughly, making her gag. Ambra's eyes rolled to the back of her head and she frantically scrabbled at his hands in an attempt to loosen his grip.

"You are never going to tell a single soul." he whispered menacingly, nose to nose with his daughter.

He looked around as if trying to find a suitable place to kill and bury her. Bury the _evidence_.

Then he seemed to loosen up and his shoulders relaxed as something in his head seemed to click.

"No, no-one will ever suspect anything." he muttered, more to himself than to her.

Then, grinning manically, he hoisted her over his shoulder with her right arm squashed painfully against him and her legs dangling.

Streetlights glowed in a sinister way as he made his way down the street. Now, the street was mostly deserted and the lights were out in almost every window in town.

Suddenly Ambra heard shouts from behind and her heart leapt in the possibility that someone had come to save her.

Then, as they came closer, Ambra realised that they were merely her father's accompaniments who had been chasing her.

"What have you got there?" one asked in nasal tone.

Others tweaked Ambra's legs and slapped her.

"You've been a naughty girl haven't you?" the one with the nasal voice said leeringly.

He chuckled as if he had made the funniest joke.

Ambra's father ignored the others and continued walking. As he reached the doorway to his house, he rummaged for the keys, jostling Ambra heavily in the process. There was a creak of the wooden door and then silence.

The morning was foggy and cold, with the sun's rays struggling to reach through the thick air and provide comfort to the people below.

Still, many clustered around the little wooden platform, mainly used for hangings or whipping, wrapping their shawls around them to keep out the cold.

The rumour was that the deceased rich lady's daughter who had lived in the overgrown manor had run away with some of her father's money in the middle of the night. Her father had caught her and was to punish her with 15 whips of the lash at 10 in the morning.

But, this time, they were late.

"What's going on?"

A blond burly boy, the baker's son dropped the bag of flour he was carrying, sending a puff of flour rising into the air. He glanced over at the restless crowd to indicate what he meant.

His father shrugged. "Apparently that friend of yours tried to run away. Got caught and all of course."

The boy, Luigi, furrowed his brow in confusion. "Which friend?"

His father grunted as he lifted another sack down from the wagon onto the ground.

"You know, the lass that you talk to in the afternoons. The one with the black hair."

"Oh, you mean Ambra?" Luigi asked, slightly alarmed. He was quite fond of her. She wasn't particularly attractive with her sallow skin and undernourished look but she had a twisted sense of humour and odd notions. He enjoyed her company, especially when the bakery was closing down in the late afternoons when it was the most boring.

He tried to appear nonchalant as he asked, "So, what will she be getting?"

"A dozen or so lashes if I recall rightly." his father informed him rather grimly. "Bit of a heavy toll on a young lass like her, especially one so frail." He sighed, "But that's just the way it is."

The baker knocked on the back door of the bakery and as soon as it opened, he disappeared inside.

Luigi, who was thinking worriedly called quickly, "I'll just go out for a second Father," Without waiting for a reply, he hurried off towards the town square.

His father who heard his son's footsteps fading shook his head knowingly. His son was going on a futile mission.


	6. Chapter 6: Brothers

So far:

_Ambra is to receive 15 lashes of the whip at 10 in the morning_

"_What is going on?"_

"_You know, the lass that you talk to in the afternoons. The one with the black hair."_

**His father who heard his son's footsteps fading shook his head knowingly. His son was going on a futile mission.**

"No!" Ambra protested as his words sank in. "No, beat me all you like but don't display me out in public!" she cried out in horror.

"Please," she sobbed, "don't do this."

He smiled cruelly, inhumanly, and lunged at her, picking her up with a single hand and carried her, kicking and screaming out of the house down the street. Onlookers stared curiously, some of the women recoiling in shock.

As they reached the square, everyone parted. Ambra stared wildly at the people, begging and pleading. "I don't deserve this. Please! Help me!" Her face was streaked with tears and her arms flailed, so pitifully thin.

The crowd murmured uneasily but they could not do anything but stand and continue to watch. Everyone knew and feared the ex-tanner's temper and even they could see that he was in a rage.

Up the stairs, along the platform, down to where the guard was waiting, a lethal looking whip in his gloved hand. She gulped; the mass of people seemed to whirl around her, waiting, hungering for justice.

"Yes Father," Stefan replied, nodding dutifully. "Don't worry, I'll make sure Damon doesn't do anything."

His father smiled, appeased by the sincerity of his younger son but Damon huffed from behind Stefan, rolling his eyes, but so that their father couldn't see. He wasn't going to suck up to Father like _Stefan_ but he also didn't exactly aim to be at the receiving end of Fathers disapproval either.

Though…sometimes, he just couldn't help it. Damon smirked guiltily as he remembered the time he had knocked over a large white urn in the garden while he had been playing. He had buried the evidence under the grass near the pavilion but the gardener had dug it up one day and Damon's guilty look had given him away. That was when he was young though; now he had much more entertaining things for his amusement…he smirked.

As the two boys got into the carriage, Damon sneaked a look and deciding the coast was clear, slouched into his seat, his arm dangling on Stefan's shoulder.

"Yes Father," Damon mocked with an exaggerated drawl, "I'll make sure _naughty_ little Damon doesn't do anything."

He raised an eyebrow playfully as he smirked at his younger brother.

While they both had the chiselled features of a strong jawline, straight nose and high cheekbones Damon was undeniably the more attractive one of the two, with his long sweeping eyelashes and alluring smile. Yet there was a dark brooding quality that hung about him. It had been there ever since the death of the two boys' mother several years ago.

She had died of a slow draining illness that had sucked all her former strength and vivacity out of her as she lay, pale and wan on her deathbed. Her husband was greatly sorrowed and refused to marry another to the consternation of his friends and noble family. Unfortunately, his lack of female companionship and nurturing had intoned a stern unforgiving nature in him and the house was henceforth a gloomier place.

Right now, Damon and Stefan were on their way to town. Their father had important guests coming over to stay and they were discussing some heavy topics that day so he had instructed them to amuse themselves in town and return before dinner.

Enrico, the coach driver, was a gentle man in his early forties, who was coincidentally beginning to bald from his forehead. He turned and called to the boys from his driver's seat.

"Young masters, where would you like me to drop you off today?"

"At the square please, Signor," Stefan replied pleasantly, but Damon shook his head. "No, I need to drop off at the bar Enrico," he said winking suggestively at Stefan, "Got lots of business there,"

Enrico snorted and Stefan shook his head reprovingly but sighed in defeat.

"Well, Signor, you heard him. He has lots of _business_," Stefan said.

"In other words," the driver said knowingly, "he would like to meet as many of those pretty lasses of his as possible, gather them around and-"

"Spend the afternoon in style," Damon interrupted with a smug grin on his handsome face. He stretched and yawned lazily then settled back into his seat and they proceeded into town in comfortable silence.

Chapter 7

"Signor, Signor Damon!" a round faced blue eyed beauty cried from the door as their carriage stopped outside the bar.

Damon stepped out with a brilliant smile, winking triumphantly at his two companions and then was engulfed by his many sighing admirers of red-cheeked bosomy barmaids who called his name excitedly, vying for his attention.

One of them, a curvy brown-haired girl smiled as she spotted Stefan in the carriage and gestured for him to join them. Others noticed him too and started towards the carriage but Stefan shook his head ruefully, smiled politely and then urged Enrico to drive on towards the square.

In the carriage, Enrico was teasingly questioning Stefan about his refusal. He didn't understand the reason for Stefan's abstinence and began reminiscing about his own youthful adventures but Stefan answered steadily that if indeed he had indulged in this fanciful flirting when he found the right girl, he would feel too ashamed of his unfaithful past.

"Besides," he said, "Damon enjoys these things much more than I do. I don't mix very well with the...ladies." He reddened a little in saying so, looking out the carriage to avoid the amused and slightly surprised gaze of the driver's eyes. Stefan was startled to see that a crowd had gathered at the square.


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